Can I Keep You?
by wearing-tearing
Summary: Stiles moves into a haunted house. But it's not until he meets the ghost of Derek Hale that he figures that out. Or, the Sterek Casper AU.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n** : hi, everyone! here i am again, this time with a sterek casper au! :D

the fic was already posted on its entirety on my ao3 account (wearing_tearing), and i'll be posting a chapter a day here until the story is complete.

thanks to whatthehale for looking it over and to everyone on tumblr who was excited about this au five months ago when it was supposed to be posted! oh, and i promise a happy ending ~

/

 **Chapter One**

"Good to know this house is just as creepy as I remember it. Maybe even _creepier_."

"Stiles."

"What? It _is,_ " Stiles shrugged. "I mean, look at it. Big ol' scary mansion in the middle of the woods and away from civilization? The horror movie practically writes itself."

"It's not that bad," his dad said unconvincingly, staring down the pebbled path that leads to the house.

To say the place was _huge_ was an understatement. The mansion was three stories high, looking impossibly big and intimidating with the forest in its background. There were high glass windows along the length of it, the paint on the window frames yellow and chipped. The bricks that made the house were scuffed and cracking, which made it look like it could all come falling down on their heads at any moment. Stiles didn't even try and look up at the roof, afraid he'd see holes in it.

"Why did we even rent it again?"

"It's big and the rent was cheap."

"Nice," Stiles snorted.

"Don't start," his dad said without any heat. "And if I remember correctly, this was the only house we saw that you didn't hate on sight."

"In my defense, I was too scared something would jump out from one of the rooms and try to kill us to feel much of anything else."

"Good thing you're going to be living with the newly appointed town Sheriff, then."

That was the entire reason they were even here, really. His father was offered a promotion after the former Beacon Hills Sheriff chose to retire, which meant Stiles and his dad had to move away during the start of Stiles's senior year when he accepted the job.

Stiles had to admit he was a bit sad about it, having to leave all of his friends behind and move to a strange place right during his senior year. He just hoped the town was as nice as his dad said it was, and that the people weren't set on their small town ways and wary of strangers. Heaven knows he wouldn't survive the year without any human interacting besides his dad. He loved the old man, but really. He needed to be around people his own age.

"So you'll protect me from any monsters hiding in our new and creepy house?" Stiles grinned at his dad.

"I think I should be protecting _them_ from _you,_ " his dad answered dryly, shaking his head at him.

"The love, dad," Stiles sniffed. "I'm really feeling it."

"How about you feel it by helping me bring our things to the house?"

"As long as you walk in front of me and make sure the coast is clear," Stiles said, giving him a thumbs up.

Stiles heard his dad mumble something under his breath that sounded a lot like a request for strength, but he still walked ahead of Stiles to the house after they grabbed as much as they could from the car.

"You ready?" his dad asked as they got to the front door, grabbing the house keys from his pocket.

"Before my arms fall off, please," Stiles grumbled, shifting his hold on one of the duffles he was carrying so he wouldn't topple over.

His dad unlocked the door, lips tipped down at the way it squeaked loudly. "I'll have to take a look at that."

"House this old? I think you'll have to take a look at lots of things, dad," Stiles piped up, only for his mouth to snap shut at the glare his dad sent in his direction.

"Come on, we don't have all day."

"Right behind you, pops."

* * *

The room Stiles chose for himself was empty of any spiders and cobwebs and other gross things — unlike some parts of the house, one which actually had a spider the size of Stiles's _fist_ chilling on the wall —, and it actually looked pretty cool. It was a little bigger than the other rooms he'd seen so far, bright with tall windows and the walls painted a light blue. The closet was spacious enough for all of Stiles's clothes and more, and on his walk-around Stiles saw that one of the windows lead to a balcony outside, just big enough for a couple of chairs.

Stiles grinned.

"Dad!" Stiles yelled and dropped his things on the floor. "I found it!"

Stiles heard his dad's heavy footsteps as he climbed up the stairs, and not a minute later he was by the door.

"Looks good, kid," the Sheriff said as he studied the room, looking pleased. "The movers should be here soon to help us bring the furniture in."

"Cool," Stiles said, suddenly excited. You know, until he remembered. "Oh, by the way, there's a huge spider in one of the rooms. You'll need to kill it."

" _Me_?" his dad raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, yeah," Stiles blinked. "What if I get close enough and it decides I look tasty?"

His dad shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. "You're too scrawny to make a good meal."

"Hey," Stiles protested. "I'd make an _awesome_ meal. I bet I taste delicious."

"Then why don't you go kill that spider yourself and find out?"

Stiles clutched at his heart, feigning hurt. "Ouch, dad."

His dad grinned at him, reaching a hand to grab at the back of Stiles's neck. "Come on, help me take the rest of our stuff out of the car."

Stiles sighed, already dreading the sore muscles he'd have tomorrow. "Yes, sir."

Unpacking was as tiring and as boring as Stiles thought it would be, and he and his dad decided to pack it in for the night when the sound of their stomachs grumbling became too loud to be ignored. They didn't have time to go grocery shopping before moving in, which meant their fridge was empty. Aside from a few granola bars Stiles had hidden in the bottom of his backpack, there was no food in the house whatsoever.

Stiles tried looking up in his phone the number of a few places from town that delivered, but everyone he called made clear their services didn't extend to this far out in the woods.

"What did I say?" Stiles gave his dad a long look. "Everyone in town knows how creepy this place looks. That's why no one wanted to come out here to give us food."

"Let's just find a diner," his dad replied. "It'd be good for you to drive around a little, get to know the town a little better."

"So that way I won't starve because no one wants to come anywhere near our place?"

"Keep talking like that and I'll go out alone."

They ended up in a small diner downtown, the place was buzzing with people, the sounds of conversation and the clanking of dishes loud in the air. Stiles couldn't help but take a deep breath as soon as he pushed the door open, the smell of hamburger grease and fries filling his nose.

"Heaven, I've finally found you," Stiles groaned, mouth watering.

"Really, Stiles?" his dad said, bemused.

Stiles just nodded and went in search of a table for them to sit, not wanting to waste any more time. He needed to eat something, and he needed to eat it _now_.

He was so hungry and tired from the moving he didn't even complain when his dad order a bacon burger and fries for himself. He waved him off when his dad gave him a distrustful look.

"After all the hauling boxes around we did today, you deserve it."

"Thanks, son," his dad said with a smile, and then shrugged. "Not that you'd be able to stop me from eating my bacon, anyway."

Stiles flopped face down on his bed when he got home that night, after saying goodnight to his dad, inhaling the smell of the cool crisp on his bed and the comforting scent of his pillow. He glanced at the picture of his mom gracing his nightstand, reaching out a hand to trace his fingers over the frame.

"I hope I like it here. Night, mom."

It was only a few seconds after that that Stiles fell asleep, too tired from the day's activities. So tired, even, he didn't even notice the shadow lurking in one of the far corners of his room.

* * *

"You didn't break anything, did you?"

Stiles made a face, sitting up on his bed and leaning against the headboard. "No, but I will if I don't find something to do soon."

The downside of not knowing anyone in town is that Stiles didn't have anyone to spend his time with. He knew that'd change once he started school, but he'd probably go out of his mind with boredom until that happened.

Which was one of the reasons why he was calling his dad at work in the middle of the day.

His dad was silent for a few beats before saying, "I found a few books while I was tidying up the office. I figured the family who used to live here left some of their things behind. Maybe you could take a tour of the house and see if you find anything interesting."

Stiles perked up, because if there was one thing he liked more than curly fries was books. _And_ messing around other people's things. "Really?"

"Yes," his dad answered. "And while you're at it, make a list of things that need fixing if you came across anything. But do _not_ attempt to fix them yourself"

"Like I would _ever_ ," Stiles gasped.

He heard his dad sigh, and he could practically _see_ the exasperated look on his face.

"Good luck," his dad said. "Call me if you need anything."

* * *

Stiles didn't find anything.

Well, aside from about twenty-three things in the house that needed repairs and the books his dad had mentioned before. And, for some reason, a leather jacket and basketball hidden away in his closet he didn't notice were there before. He left the ball on top of his dresser, the jacket draped over the back of his computer chair. He figured he could decide what to do with them later, and the jacket even looked kind of cool, if not a little used and smelling like it'd been put away for ten years.

"I take it from your face you didn't find anything interesting," his dad said when he got home that night for dinner, sitting on the couch by Stiles's side, a faint smirk on his lips.

"I made a list of all the things that need fixing. It's on the fridge."

Stiles handed a plate to him, smiling to himself when his dad didn't even try turning his nose up at all the veggies in it. But his dad did insist on being the one to pick what they were going to watch. He settled for old reruns of The X-Files, something Stiles definitely wasn't going to complain about.

"I'll take a look at it when I can," his dad nodded. "Thanks, kid."

"You can repay me by taking me with you to the station tomorrow," Stiles said, trying to look innocent as he scooped up some rice with his fork and ate it.

"You're that bored?"

Stiles shrugged. He was that bored, and spending time in his dad's place was work was always fun for him.

"I'll see what I can do."

They spent the rest of the evening like that, watching old tv shows and the Sheriff answering Stiles's questions about the station and his new deputies.

And Stiles didn't notice when he went back to his room that the leather jacket and basketball were not where he left them, but hidden away in his closet instead.

* * *

It wasn't until laundry day three days later that Stiles thought about it.

He was loading his clothes into the washer when it came to mind he could give the leather jacket a clean up while he was at it. He knew it was in good state, if in need of a revival, and all he'd need to do was ask Google a couple of quicks questions on how to best go about it and he'd be set.

He went in search for it, only not to find either the jacket or the basketball ball where he left it. I wasn't draped over the back of his chair like he remembered it, nor was it between the pile of folded laundry he already had on top of his bed. He knew his dad also didn't move it, because he stopped going into Stiles's room since the he accidentally came in without knocking and caught Stiles in a compromising position. With himself.

Stiles couldn't say he blamed his dad.

He bit at his bottom lip and decided to look through his room one more time before tackling the rest of the house. He knew the jacket had to be there somewhere, he just needed to find it.

He went through his drawers, dresser, kneeled down to look under his bed. He even checked his bathroom and the little balcony outside, and moved the furniture to check the jacket wasn't behind anything. It wasn't.

"Did I really put it away in the closet again?" Stiles frowned at himself.

He couldn't remember doing so, no matter how much he thought about it. It still didn't hurt to look, not after exhausting all other possibilities.

Which was why he did a little victory dance when he saw the leather jacket hanging neatly in his closet.

Stiles grabbed the jacket, smiled, and said, "Gotcha!"

And then went still when he heard someone behind him growl, "Let go of that."

* * *

After practically being raised watching _Buffy_ , _The X-Files_ , and _Ghostbusters_ , Stiles liked to think his reaction to seeing a shimmery shadow resembling a seventeen year old boy floating ten inches above ground and glaring _fiercely at him_ wouldn't be to let out a high pitch scream, try to karate chop him, and then, when that obviously didn't work, throw a basketball at him.

A basketball that just went _right through_ the boy's stomach.

Which only made him glare harder at Stiles.

" _Really_?" the boy said, voice dripping sarcasm.

Stiles made a choked up noise and flattened himself against the wall, blinking repeatedly, trying to come to terms with what his eyes were showing him. Not that he managed, really.

Because as soon as his eyes focused on the boy again? Well, that was when everything went a bit hazy around the edges and Stiles passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

When Stiles woke up, it was to wonder why he was on the floor of his room.

He lifted a hand up his head and groaned, eyes squeezed shut as he sat up slowly. Only to freeze when he heard someone snort.

Stiles gulped and opened his eyes, just as it all came rushing back to him.

A boy around his own age hovered over his bed, his legs crossed under him, and he was staring at Stiles with an unimpressed look on his face.

"I never had someone pass out from fear of me before," the boy said, tilting his head to the side before smirking. "I kind of like it."

And Stiles might have been scared and he might have been thinking the world as he knew it is just one big fat lie, but there was just something about the look on the boy's face that kind of made Stiles want to punch him.

"I'm not afraid of you," Stiles said.

And then yelped and scrambled backwards when the boy suddenly appeared right in front, eyes glowing and teeth turned into fangs and face shifting to something that was definitely _not human_. Not that Stiles thought the boy was human _before_. Since, you know, he looked exactly like Stiles thought someone's _ghost_ would look like.

But this was definitely something _more than that_.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" Stiles wheezed, resting a hand over his heart.

He was actually pretty impressed he with himself when he didn't pass out again. His ears was buzzing, heart beating fast, palms sweating.

He must have been hallucinating, right? Because there was no way this was really happening. There was absolutely no chance in _hell_ that ghosts were _real_ and there was one standing _right in front of him._

A ghost who, judging by the expression on his face, looked incredibly pleased with himself at having scared Stiles, something he showed by shifting his features back to how they were before and then _grinning_.

"How the _fuck_ did you do that?" Stiles asked, because that was what was important here, obviously. How the ghost he did what he did, and not _why_ he was here or the fact that _ghosts existed_.

"It's just something I can do," the boy shrugged. "You know, to be able to scare people."

"Something you can do," Stiles repeated weakly, blinking.

The boy grinned again, and in the next instant he looked nothing like he did a minute before, which was a like a seventeen year old boy with black hair and pale eyes and the thickest eyebrows Stiles had ever seen on someone.

Mostly because he didn't have a head anymore.

Yup, that's right. In its place was, well, _nothing_. But the boy's neck a gaping wound, dripping blood down his skin and soaking his clothes. It looked so realistic Stiles had to close his eyes and cover his mouth so he wouldn't gag.

"See? It's just something I can do."

Stiles's reply was a faint, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't."

"I'm back to normal now," the boy said.

Stiles had to laugh at that, sounding a little hysterical even to his own years. _Normal_ , he said. What was normal for a _ghost_?

"I can't believe this is happening," Stiles muttered, blinking his eyes open slowly.

The boy hovered in front of him, looking like his regular self, if somewhat unsympathetic. When he offered no response, Stiles asked, "Who _are_ you?"

He couldn't believe it took him this long to get to it, but in his defense he was in shock. It wasn't every day you got your entire world turned upside down.

"I'm Derek," the boy said.

"Derek," Stiles repeated. Now at least he didn't have to keep calling Derek _Ghost Boy_ in his head anymore.

"I'm Stiles Stilinski," Stiles said, offering his hand for a handshake only to drop it when Derek looked at it in horror. "Right, sorry. Ghosts. They go through stuff. I forgot that."

He forgot that. _Ha_.

He never thought that'd be useful knowledge to have.

Stiles took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to try and calm himself down. "So, Derek. Do you have any idea why you're haunting my house?"

" _Your_ house?"

"Well, yes," Stiles said. "My dad and I live here. Since a few days ago."

Derek blinked, and then his expression twisted into something painful and ugly and bitter. And that's when he said, "Yes, _well_ , this was my house first."

* * *

"Well, this isn't helpful," Stiles muttered, shutting off his laptop.

It was no surprise that after hearing Derek tell him this used to be his house, Stiles went straight into research mode. Not that he could find anything useful. There were no recent news related to the house or someone called Derek that used to live in Beacon Hills, which meant Stiles would probably have to go to the library to go through old scans and see if he found anything.

At least now he knew that whatever it was that happened to Derek, whatever that got him stuck in the house, _haunting it_ , it happened a long time ago.

Stiles sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. His stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn't had any breakfast yet.

Just as soon as he got up he felt something cold at the back of his neck. He reeled around only but didn't see anything, letting out a nervous chuckle and scratching the back of his neck.

He was being dumb about this. There was no reason to be scared of a seventeen year old boy who was a _ghost_.

Or at least that was the lie that Stiles kept telling himself. Because as soon as he turned around again it was to come face to face with Derek, who was now sitting right in front of him and staring at him with a raised eyebrow as if to say _well?_

Stiles didn't scream.

He also didn't scramble back, flailed, and ended up tripping on his own feet and falling on top of his bed. Really. He didn't. No matter what Derek's mocking smile said.

" _Dude_ ," Stiles glared at him. "Not cool."

Derek shrugged, unconcerned. "It's not my fault you scary easily."

"I don't," Stiles said. "That's just what happens when someone suddenly _appears_ right in front of me without making any noise. _That_ scares me. You know, we should make a rule: no scaring Stiles. I'm too young to die of a heart attack."

"Whatever," Derek rolled his eyes.

Stiles stared at him.

Derek just stared back.

Stiles kind of wanted to punch him again. Too bad his hand would just go through Derek's face if he did.

They sat there in awkward silence, staring at each other until Stiles cleared his throat and said, "So. I'm about to head down for breakfast."

"Okay."

Stiles pursed his lips, watching Derek with narrowed eyes for a few seconds before turning on his back and heading down to the kitchen.

He tried not to fidget when he saw Derek following from the corner of his eye, and not when Derek hovered by the kitchen table while Stiles made himself breakfast. But he did feel kind of bad when he sat down to eat, suddenly aware that Derek must not have tasted bacon and toast since, well, _he died_.

"So," Stiles said again.

"Yes?"

"You're a ghost."

"And you're a genius," Derek bit back.

Stiles made a face at him.

"So how does that work? The being a ghost thing and all?"

Derek got a look on his face as if saying _really_?

Stiles shrugged. He was curious. It wasn't everyday someone found out about a teenager haunting their bedroom.

"How do you _think_?" Derek huffed, annoyed.

"Okay, nevermind," Stiles said, waving a hand, because being a ghost meant _being dead_ , and there was nothing good or funny about that. "What kind of stuff can you do as a ghost, then?"

Still didn't mean Stiles wasn't curious about it.

"I can scare the crap out of you," Derek pointed out with a smile.

Stiles glared. "Besides that."

"Why don't you ask me questions?" Derek said. "You obviously have things you _want_ to know."

Stiles perked up at the thought, going through the millions questions rolling around in his head before saying, "Can you turn invisible?"

Because, of course. That was what was important.

"I can," Derek said, and a second later he wasn't there anymore.

Stiles's stomach flipped as he looked around, his cheeks flushing pink. Because if Derek could turn invisible while in the same room Stiles was in then, "You don't lurk around when I'm naked, do you?"

" _What_?" Derek yelled and made himself visible again, sounding and looking so horrified and embarrassed Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh. "That's— I don't— I wouldn't _never_ —"

"Okay, okay," Stiles said when Derek seemed to get more and more worked up about it. "It's alright. I get it. You didn't stay around like a creeper watching me while I changed or showered or, uh, did other things."

Derek snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head vigorously.

"Right," Stiles said, clearing his throat. "So, you can change your appearance at will to scare people and you can turn invisible. What else?"

"That's pretty much it," Derek shrugged. "I can move some things around if I concentrate hard enough, but that usually gives me a headache."

"Ghosts get headaches?" Stiles blinked.

Derek glared at him.

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip, considering Derek. There didn't seem to be much to life as a ghost, not that Stiles should have expected any different. There was still something he wanted to know, though.

"Can I touch you?" Stiles blurted out, and then immediately wished to swallow those words back. As soon as they were out of his mouth Derek's glare slid off his face, his eyes widening in both surprise and horror.

And wasn't that something.

"You want to what?" Derek asked, sounding strangled.

"I— Is it—," Stiles started. "Touch you? I mean, if that's— Is it allowed? Is that something that— Can I even do that? Can I touch you?"

Stiles knew he wasn't explaining himself well, not that he thought he needed much explanation for asking Derek if he could touch him. Stiles wanted to know what he felt like, wanted to know how Derek's hand would feel against his, if there was anything to feel at all. Well, Stiles had noticed he felt a little bit chilly whenever Derek was close to him, but he had no idea of touching Derek would be like that.

Derek was still staring at him like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"You want to touch me?" he asked, just as bit incredulous as before.

"Yes?" Stiles said, wincing. Only to shake his head and gather himself. If he wanted to go through with this, he needed to sound like he meant it. "Yes, I do. I do want to touch you. But only if it's okay with you."

Derek blinked at him once, twice, three times in quick succession. He went from seeming surprised to seeming awkward, and it took him a few seconds before he answered, "Yes."

"Yes?" Stiles repeated, trying not to sound too excited. He didn't think he succeeded.

"Yes," Derek said, swallowing hard.

But Derek didn't make any moves, just kept hovering in front of Stiles, an intense look on his face. Stiles bit on the inside on his cheek, figuring that if he was the one to ask he could be the one to do something.

"Okay," Stiles said, taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself. "Okay."

Stiles raised one of his hands between them, palm to Derek.

Derek didn't move, though, just kept staring, an expression on his face Stiles couldn't quite make out. Which was why he started to worry.

"Can I hurt you if you touch me?" Stiles asked, thinking that must have been something Derek had on his mind.

"No," Derek said softly, eyes still glued to Stiles's hand.

"Can _you_ hurt me if you touch me?"

Derek's face did something complicated then, but he minutely shook his head.

Well, that was that.

"C'mon, then," Stiles said, wiggling his fingers a little.

Derek stared at him for another beat or two before pressing his lips together, his jaw clenching. He had his determined look on his face, so it wasn't a surprise to Stiles when Derek lifted his own hand up.

They both moved slowly, inch by inch, until their palms were almost touching.

The air seemed charged around them, especially when their eyes locked right before their hands pressed together.

Stiles's mouth parted in a silent gasp at the cool feeling of Derek's hand against his, Derek's fingers going through his, and he shivered a little.

"You're cold," Stiles blurted out.

Colder than he was when just sitting by being close to Stiles but not touching him, and there was Stiles's answer.

Derek snapped his hand back, brows furrowed. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Stiles said, smiling a little. "I just wasn't expecting it."

That wasn't entirely true, but Stiles didn't want Derek to know that. Not that Stiles's words seemed to reassure Derek, who was looking down at his hand with a frown on his face, his shoulders tense.

"Hey," Stiles said, leaning forward a little. He made sure to wait until Derek was looking up at him to say, "Thanks for letting me do that."

"Yeah," Derek said, and Stiles could see his throat working as he swallowed. "No problem."


	3. Chapter 3

School was surprisingly not as nerve-wracking as Stiles thought it would be.

Even though he was new in town, knew _no one_ , and was starting school a few weeks late, he found himself making friends quickly. The only problem was that that seemed to happen not because of his charming personality, but because of people's fascination with house.

Apparently, the student body of Beacon Hills High School thought his house was _haunted_ and that that was the _coolest thing ever_.

Stiles almost choked on his tongue when he heard _that_ little tidbit of gossip coming from his classmates after he introduced himself to the entire class. He didn't want to know what they'd all do if they ever found out just how much truth there was to that rumor.

It got even worse when their Chemistry teacher, Mr. Harris, informed them all that unfortunately, due to problems at the school's gym, the Halloween dance was going to have to be canceled.

One of the twins Stiles noticed sitting at the back of the classroom stood up, lips forming a smile as he said, "We want to have the dance, right?"

"Yeah," the students piped up.

"Well, this guy lives in a really _really_ creepy house," he said. "Maybe even the creepiest house in the whole county. We should have the party there."

Stiles opened his mouth to argue that his house wasn't _that_ creepy, only for his brain to catch up that these people wanted to throw a _party_ at his house without bothering to ask for permission first. And that was just— That was _not cool_.

Before he could say any of that, though, the entire room started clapping in excitement again. A strawberry blond girl sitting in the first row, almost right in front of Stiles, stood up, her eyes calculating as she came up to him.

"You really live at the old Hale mansion?"

"Hale? I— Yes. But I don't—," Stiles tried to say, only to be cut off.

Also, _Hale_? Is that what they called the place? And also, _why_? Maybe that was the last name of the family who used to live there? Or maybe… Maybe they were related to Derek.

"That's good," she nodded, seeming pleased. "Your house is bigger than mine, and the woods surrounding the property will give a scary authentic look to the dance."

"Well, I don't think—"

"You don't have to think about much," she said. "I'll be planning most of the things. Give me your phone."

Stiles opened his mouth only to snap it shut again when she raised an eyebrow at him. He huffed, fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"I'm Lydia Martin," the girl said as he punched her number in. "I'll be in contact so we can talk about decorations and other party business." She handed Stiles's phone back to him, but turned to the class before taking her seat. "The party will be moved from my house to the Preserve."

Everyone clapped and whooped, completely ignoring the look on Stiles's face that told them he was less than pleased to be roped into throwing a party at his house without letting his father know about it first. He figured he would have to call his dad as soon as class was over, and he already started trying to come up with excuses as to why it would be a good idea to have the Halloween dance where they live.

"You better go back to your seat, Mr. Stilinski, unless you want detention on your first day of class," Harris said, narrowing his eyes at him.

Stiles huffed out a breath. What a _dick_.

* * *

Stiles rested his head against his locker door, the metal cool on his skin.

He'd just gotten off the phone with his dad and to say he wasn't pleased about suddenly being the host of the high school's Halloween dance was an understatement. It was one of the busiest night of the year already for the police department, and add a party at their house on top of it wasn't a good thing.

"I'll call the school," his dad sighed. "There better be chaperones, because I won't be able to look after all of you."

"You're not saying no, then?" Stiles asked, biting on his bottom lip.

"I'm not, but you better call me first the next time someone asks you if you can throw a party at our house."

Stiles wanted to argue that no one exactly _asked_ , but he thought better of it. It also wasn't like he fought very hard against their house being chosen to be party central. That would certainly be a way for him to get to know more people, or at least get to know the people he already talked to a little better. Nothing like putting up decorations and getting drunk together.

Not that there would be any alcohol there, no sir.

"I promise, dad."

They said their goodbyes, Stiles pocketing his phone and dropping his head against the locker. Well, at least now Stiles didn't have to worry about all of his classmates wanting to kill him.

Halloween dance was a _go_.

* * *

The first thing Stiles did as soon as he was out of class was to, well, _research_. Now that he knew what people called the mansion, it was a lot easier to find information about the family that used to live there before him. If things turned out like he hoped they would, he would finally find out what had happened to Derek. How he _died_.

Although, thinking like that made his stomach churn a little. He had tried really hard up until now not to actively think that for Derek to be a _ghost_ he must have stopped living. It made it all even more terrible because Derek was his age, only a seventeen year old boy, when he met his end.

But Stiles still needed to know, which was why he found himself at the library in the middle of the afternoon, eyes scanning article after article he found relating to the old Hale Family. And when Stiles said old he meant _really old_. As in, they were a prominent family living in Beacon Hills over sixty years ago.

Stiles found a brief descriptions of the family's many accomplishments, from hosting innumerous charity events at their house to helping rebuild the town's hospital, a note congratulating a Cora Hale on getting one of her short stories published, and another talking about a Peter Hale being arrested for disturbance of peace, _again_. It wasn't until he stumbled into a front page cover with the headline in big bold black letters saying HALE HOUSE FIRE, 11 KILLED that his heart stopped in his chest.

His eyes quickly scanned the page, stomach churning at reading about the fire that started in the basement of the house and quickly spread over the entire mansion. It was said someone left a candle burning in the room, which must have been the cause of the fire. By the time the family realized what was happening, the fire had already taken the first floor, leaving them trapped inside.

The old paper only mentioned one survivor, going by the name Laura Hale, the oldest daughter of Talia Hale, the family's matriarch. That bit was quickly followed by a list of all the ones that perished in the fire, along with their respective ages. Stiles's chest hurt at seeing the youngest Hale at the house had only been three years old, but it wasn't until he saw a familiar name that his entire body grew numb and cold.

But the worst of it? It was the picture of the entire Hale clan that followed. Because right there, plain as Stiles could see, was not only _Derek'_ s name and age, but also his pale eyes and black hair and thick eyebrows, small and blurry, staring right back at Stiles.

* * *

Stiles was sitting on his bed, the basketball he had found on his first day in the house and Derek's old leather jacket on the mattress in front of him. He was also holding a copy of the Hale Fire article, the paper wrinkling underneath the pressure of his fingers.

He had no idea if Derek remembered how he died, or even if he remembered who his family was. Aside from telling Stiles his name and making that comment about the house being his first, Derek never once again offered any information about himself to Stiles.

It didn't take long before he saw Derek appear in front of him, a frown on his face as he looked at Stiles.

"Is everything okay?"

Stiles swallowed, hoping that what he was about to say wouldn't end in disaster. "I found out who you are."

Derek blinked, confused. "I'm Derek."

"Yes, but what I mean is I found out who you _are_ ," Stiles repeated, licking his lips. "And I also found out what happened to you."

Derek went still, aside from the movement of his fingers curling into his palm. "What?"

Stiles told him about the Halloween dance and his classmates calling the place the old Hale mansion, and how that lead him to the library wanting to gather more information. He explained how at first he didn't know if these people had any relation to Derek, at least not until he found the picture.

"Can I see it?" Derek asked, voice raw.

Stiles nodded, placing the folded paper so only the Hales picture showed, not the article accompanying it, in front of Derek on the bed. He wasn't expecting Derek's sharp intake of breath, nor the small and sad smile playing on his lips.

"Are you okay?"

"I remember them," Derek said, voice nothing but a whisper.

Stiles shuffled closer, their knees almost touching. "Yeah?"

"Yes. I don't think I didn't until I saw this, but I remember them now. There's mom and dad," Derek said, pointing to a tall couple in the picture. "And those two are Laura and Cora, they were my sisters. And Uncle Peter's there, too. He was kind of the black sheep in the family, always getting into trouble."

Stiles listened as Derek talked about his family, heart tugging painfully in his chest. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like, to be stuck as a ghost for over six _decades_ , not even being able to remember who his family was.

"What happened to us?" Derek asked, shaking his head at the picture.

Stiles pressed his lips together, carefully taking the paper back so he could unfold it, revealing the Hale House Fire article.

"Fuck," Derek cursed when he saw it, expression filled with pain and grief as he read it.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said, not knowing what else to do. Not that saying he was sorry helped much, as Stiles was aware. He hated when people said that to him after his mother died, but that was all he had in that moment.

"I don't remember that part," Derek told him, looking away from the paper. Stiles hastily grabbed it and stuck it under his pillow, away from Derek's eyes.

"I think that's a good thing," Stiles muttered.

"I know I didn't go where I was supposed to go," Derek said, and Stiles turned to him with his eyes wide. This was the first time he heard Derek acknowledge that him being here wasn't actually _natural_ , that when people died they were supposed to go some place _else_ and not get stuck here. "I don't remember what went wrong, but I know I didn't want to leave. I didn't want Laura to be alone."

Stiles's lip trembled, thinking that didn't matter anymore. Laura was long gone, and now Derek was the one left here, without his family or friends. All he had was Stiles.

"Do you remember what it's like being alive?"

Stiles watches as Derek swallowed, his shoulders slumping. They were in Stiles room, Derek hovering over the bed with his legs folded underneath him, eyes following Stiles as he gathered what he would need for school tomorrow.

"Sometimes. There's some stuff that got lost when I turned into a ghost instead of going where I was supposed to, but yeah. I remember some of it."

"I'm sorry you can't remember _all of it_ ," Stiles said, lips turning down. "But mostly I'm sorry you have to. You shouldn't still be here."

"I wish I was," Derek said, glancing at him. The look on his face made Stiles's breath hitch. It was open and raw, filled with so much pain and sadness it made Stiles's own heart ache. "I wish I was _really_ here, alive, not just like this."

And Stiles, well, he wanted _so desperately_ to be able to hug Derek in that moment that he took a few steps forward reached out a hand. He touched Derek's shoulder, watching as his fingers went through him, a shiver going through him at the coolness he now associated with Derek.

Derek seemed to get it, though, eyes closing when Stiles took his hand back.


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you know what your costume will be yet?"

Stiles groaned, dropping his head on the table. "No. And I have absolutely _no_ ideas."

His mind was still reeling because of his conversation with Derek and the horribleness of his situation, and that left him little time to decide what he was going to be for Halloween. His dad bringing up the subject now only served to make Stiles anxious. He knew if he didn't get a move on soon all the best costumes would be rented, and he'd be left with the clown suit no one wanted or with something that smelled like roadkill.

"I don't remember you having this much trouble with costumes when you were a kid," his dad said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"That's because when I was a kid, I'd just put on your deputy jacket, your sunglasses, and wave an empty wallet around like it was a badge," Stiles huffed, rolling his eyes.

"And you looked cute doing it, too," his dad pointed out, smiling. "Everyone complimented you when we went out for trick or treating."

Stiles shook his head. "I don't think that's going to do it this time, dad."

"You're right," his dad nodded. "You grew up kind of odd-looking."

"Hey!" Stiles gasped, offended. "I am _hella fine_ , I'll have you know."

"I don't even know what that means," his dad muttered, lips twitching up.

"That's because you're an old man."

His dad shrugged. "At least I still got it."

"Ugh, _dad_."

"What? You should be thankful. That means you'll age well."

Stiles wrinkled his nose at his dad, mood dropping as his thoughts went back to Derek and how _he_ would _never_ age. His dad must have seen something on his face, because his eyes softened and he reached out to place a hand on Stiles's shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

"Don't worry about it, kid," his dad said. "You'll think of something. You always do."

Yes, Stiles thought. He was sure he would, too.

* * *

School had Lydia stopping at Stiles's table during lunch period, informing him she'd be stopping by his house sometime in the next few days to decorate. Stiles took to sitting with the few people he met on his first week of class, glad they all welcomed him into their circle. Stiles had to say he actually liked them a lot.

Scott played lacrosse and always had a smile on his face or something nice to say to someone; Allison was a sweetheart through and through and also had scary good aim, always hitting the trash when she threw something at it. She and Scott were dating, something Stiles was made aware of by catching them making out around the school more times than he was comfortable with.

Then there was Erica, her love for comics and making innuendos whenever she could winning over Stiles's heart. Boyd, her boyfriend, was silent and kind of intimidating, and his love for ice skating and B-Horror movies made him one of Stiles's favorites. Isaac was their best friend, a lacrosse player like Scott, always there with his morbid sense of humor and crooked smile.

Danny was easy-going and had a perpetual _you're all so weird but I like you_ look on his face. He was the goalie for the lacrosse team and refused to take any shit from anyone. The thing that most surprised Stiles about Danny was that he was Jackson's best friend, and Jackson, well… Stiles didn't care for him much. He was Lydia's boyfriend, and always seemed more worried about lacrosse and winning than he did about other things.

"We don't want to do things last minute," Lydia said when Stiles made a face at her. "That way, if something goes wrong, we can fix it."

"I can't wait for the dance," Scott said, grinning widely. "I still can't believe your dad let us have it at your place. It's going to be _awesome_."

"My dad told me to be careful," Allison told them, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You know, since the house is near the woods and all. He doesn't want me to wander off and get lost."

"You do know there's a bigger chance of something bad happening to you _inside_ the house than outside of it, right?" Erica asked, raising an eyebrow at Allison.

"Hey!" Stiles frowned. "That's not true."

"Well, I mean, your house _is_ creepy as fuck and rumored to be haunted," Isaac answered. "I actually think it's kind of cool."

"You would," Erica said, rolling her eyes.

Isaac stuck his tongue out at her.

"My house is fine," Stiles grumbled, not liking this conversation.

"I'm sure it is, man," Scott said, knocking his foot against Stiles's under the table.

Stiles gave him a small smile. Scott was the _best_.

"It better be," Jackson said, scowling. "Because my costume is too fucking expensive to get ghost slime on it."

Everyone turned to him, faces going from confused to amused.

"Ghost slime?" Boyd asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know," Jackson said, waving a hand. "Ectoplasm."

"Jackson," Lydia said, biting on the inside of her cheek not to laugh.

"What?" Jackson snapped, his cheeks turning pink. "I like ghost movies. So _what_?"

"Nothing," Danny said, patting Jackson on the arm. "It's just a new side of you, that's all."

"Like the time we found you watching _The Notebook_ and crying," Boyd added, nodding as if it all made sense. "All by _yourself_."

Stiles watched as all of his friends laughed at Jackson's expense and hoped that they didn't find out just how haunted his house _really_ was.

* * *

Derek had been more morose lately, something Stiles couldn't blame him for after their last conversation. So it was kind of a surprise to him when Derek appeared in his room a few days later with a determined look on his face.

"Did you find a costume yet?" Derek asked, lips turning down a little.

"No," Stiles sighed. "I have no idea what to do."

"I might have something," Derek said, swallowing hard.

"Yeah?" Stiles blinked, raising his eyebrows. "Let's hear it. It's probably better than the nothing I've come up with. You know, I'm almost settling for cutting two holes in a sheet and going as a _ghost_."

Derek glared at him, obviously not pleased about that comment.

"Sorry," Stiles said. "That was shitty of me. Anyway, what did you have in mind?"

"Well," Derek started, looking around the room and fidgeting in place a little. He almost seemed _nervous_. "You could…"

"Yes?" Stiles pressed. He'd never seen Derek like this, and he had to say he kind of liked it.

"My jacket," Derek blurted out, and then a second later looked promptly ashamed of himself.

"What about it?" Stiles frowned, not understanding.

Derek shrugged one shoulder, playing with the hem of his shirt. "You could wear it to the dance, maybe?"

Stiles perked up, an idea forming in his head. "Like Danny Zuko?"

Derek blinked, looking lost. "Who?"

"That's not important," Stiles said. "Are you sure you're okay with me wearing your clothes?"

"Yes," Derek said, sounding a little choked. "I'm okay with that."

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked one more time, just to confirm it.

" _Yes_ , Stiles."

"Thanks, man." Stiles grinned and grabbed the jacket, sliding it over his shoulders. He turned around to look at himself in the mirror. "How do I look?"

Stiles thought he looked good, actually. The jacket was only a little too big on him, the sleeves coming down past his wrists. It stretched nicely around his shoulders and back, though, making him look kind of dangerous. And, well, _hot,_ if he did say so himself.

When Stiles turned to Derek it was to see him with a look on his face Stiles couldn't decipher, but he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Stiles's.

"It's— You— It looks—," Derek stuttered, and Stiles would swear that if Derek wasn't a ghost, he would see him _blushing_. "It looks good. On you. You look great."

"Yeah?" Stiles beamed, face flushing with pleasure. He glanced over at his reflection some more, already planning the rest of his costume.

"Yes," Derek mumbled, so slow Stiles almost didn't hear it.

As it were, Stiles was so caught up in his plans that he didn't notice the way Derek's gaze trailed over his body one more time, slowly, as if committing him to memory. Nor did he notice the look of pure longing that settled over Derek's face.

* * *

Lydia had just gone back to her house after making Stiles decorate the entire first floor of the house while she supervised. She left him with sore muscles, a bruise on his shin from tripping over a witch sculpture, and paper cuts all over his fingers.

Stiles took a long hot shower, enjoying the warmth of the hot water against his sore muscles until the water turned cold. He got out of the shower and dried himself with a fluffy towel, knowing that he'd probably fall asleep as soon as he flopped down on his bed.

And that probably would have happened if Derek hadn't appeared in his bedroom just as Stiles was getting out of the bathroom.

" _Fuck_ ," Stiles cursed, hand flying to his chest. "What the hell, dude? Why don't you make a _noise_?"

Derek opened and closed his mouth a few times, his eyes wide and trailing up and down Stiles's body, and it took Stiles a second to realize _why_.

When he did, though, it was like he could feel his entire body flushing, the room suddenly hot even with the window open and a gentle breeze hitting Stiles's still damp skin.

"I just—," Derek tried, clearing his throat. "I'm— I wanted to—"

If it was any other time, Stiles might have laughed at Derek's loss for words. As it were, all he could do was clutch tightly at the towel wrapped around his waist and pretend this wasn't happening.

He was not that successful, though.

"Because this is why," Stiles said, voice a little high. "I just got out of the _shower_. You're lucky you didn't come in a second later, because then the towel would be gone and you'd have a great view of my _naked ass_."

"I'm sorry," Derek choked, hovering closer to the wall. "I'll just— I'm— I'll wait for you outside."

Stiles watched as Derek went through his bedroom wall, only relaxing after seeing the back of Derek's head disappearing. He was quick at putting on his pjs, biting down on his bottom lip and feeling torn between wanting to forget this and wishing Derek did come in a second later.

And wasn't _that_ something, Stiles thought to himself.

He had no idea how or when that happened. If it was in between whispered conversations they had at night before Stiles going to sleep, or Derek revealing a little bit more about himself and what his life was like after seeing the picture of his family, or if it was both of them sitting on the couch so they could watch movies while Stiles's dad was at work and they were all alone in the house.

All Stiles knew was that, somehow, in between first meeting Derek and then getting to know him, Stiles slowly and surely came to like him a little bit more each day. He came to consider Derek a friend, and then he started wishing they could be something more.

When he was done, he found Derek waiting for him by his door, looking about as awkward as ever. And that quickly reminded Stiles of what had just happened, his cheeks flushing red at knowing Derek had seen him half naked and at also his newfound realization that he didn't mind that _at all_.

"I'm sorry," Derek said again, as soon as Stiles ushered him inside and closed the door behind them. "I really didn't mean to do it. I just forget sometimes that I'm—"

"Not supposed to just hover into people's rooms?" Stiles said lightly.

"Yeah," Drek mumbled.

"It's okay," Stiles said, wishing he could reach out and pat Derek on the shoulder. "Just maybe come in with your eyes closed next time."

Derek's lips twitched. "I'll keep that in mind."

"So," Stiles said, clapping his hands together and throwing himself into his computer chair. "What did you wanted to talk to me about?"

Derek seemed to be struggling with his words, as if not knowing what to say. Which was why Stiles was a little confused when Derek finally blurted out, "I'm a good dancer."

"Okay?" Stiles said slowly, not knowing where this was going.

Derek sighed, scrubbing a hand over face in frustration.

"My mom thought it was important that my sisters and I knew how to dance," Derek told him, a faraway look on his face. "She was a dancer before she married my dad, so she wanted to share her love for it with us. She put us in dancing classes since we were old enough to walk, and I grew up knowing how dance to different types of music."

Stiles was smiling softly at the image of a six-year-old Derek learning how to waltz, tiny brows scrunched up in concentration as he counted his steps.

"I still don't understand where you're going with this."

"The Halloween dance," Derek finally said, it all rushing out of him. "I thought it would be fun if—"

Stiles's mouth dropped open in realization that Derek only mentioned he was a good dancer because wanted to attend the dance, wanted to be part of that thing in Stiles's life. And a second later his heart clenched in his chest because he knew Derek _couldn't._

"It would," Stiles said, heart in his throat. "It would be fun. Fuck, I'd _love_ for you to go to the dance with me." Stiles had to ignore the hopeful look on Derek's face at that as he continued speaking, "But Derek, I don't think we can do that. I don't think it'd be a good idea."

That wasn't exactly true. Stiles thought it was a _wonderful_ idea, to have Derek there with him, but he saw no way this could work. At least not with Derek being what he was — a _ghost_. If only there was a way for Derek to come back to life as himself, even if for just one night and just for the dance.

"I thought as much," Derek said, his shoulders slumped. "But I still wanted to ask."

"Derek—"

"I just wish I could do something with you," Derek spat. "Something _real_ , that didn't involve staying inside the house or hiding from everyone."

"Me too," Stiles whispered, because it was true.

But they couldn't.

And the reason why not was the exact same reason why Stiles's fingers grew cold and why his touch went _through_ Derek instead of resting against him.

"You should go to bed," Derek muttered. "You look like you're about to drop."

Stiles nodded and did as Derek suggested. Their conversation had left him even more tired than before, and he wasted no time turning off the light, climbing into bed and pulling the covers up to his chest. Derek sat down next to him, silent and staring at the crisscross pattern of Stiles's blankets.

Stiles watched him in the dark, taking in his black hair, the curve of his neck, his gangly limbs that never got to grow into themselves. He took in Derek's crooked teeth, his small ears and thin lips, the softness of his jaw and cheeks. Stiles committed it all to memory, wondering for a brief moment what Derek would look like now if he was alive, flesh and blood and warmth.

Stiles thought about how unfair it was that Derek didn't get to live, didn't get to grow up and enjoy his life. Even more unfair was that he didn't have anyone to remember him by, to miss him, to mourn him. He had no one to do those things for him, no one but Stiles.

"What are you thinking?" Derek asked him, voice low.

"Remembering," Stiles said, glancing at the picture of his mom on his nightstand. "Sometimes I think I'm not very good at it."

Derek tilted his head in question. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes I worry I'm starting to forget my mom," Stiles mumbled. "The sound of her voice, the way she smelled, what color her hair was. All of those things that made her who she was."

Stiles talked a little about her, things they used to do together when she was alive. He talked and talked and talked until his throat dried and his voice was hoarse. He didn't even stop when Derek stretched out on the bed next to him, facing him, lips curled up and eyes soft and sad.

"Sometimes the best thing you could do for the dead is to go on _living_."

"I wish you'd gotten the chance," Stiles said. He didn't add, "So you could go on living _with me_ ," but he was pretty sure Derek got it.

Especially when Derek admitted that, "Sometimes I didn't think that."

Stiles swallowed, eyes finding Derek's. "What changed your mind?"

Derek just stared at him, providing no answer to Stiles's question.

And Stiles was about to give up and go to sleep when Derek leaned in close, and Stiles felt something cool press against his cheek, Derek's voice against his skin.

"It was you. I wish I got to live so I could be with you."

"Me too," Stiles said, heart hurting and fingers curling over his own cheek, right over the spot where Derek's hand rested.

Derek laid back down on the bed, this time a lot closer to Stiles than before, their noses almost touching. Stiles's eyes started growing heavy after a few minutes, when all they did was just stare at each other. His body started relaxing, limbs heavy as he started drifting off to sleep.

But not before he heard Derek whisper, "Stiles? Can I keep you?"

Not before he said, "Yes."

And not before he felt Derek's cool lips against his own.


	5. Interlude

**a/n** : interlude from derek's pov and only one more chapter to go!

* * *

Derek made his way to one of the empty bedrooms in the house, cursing himself for his stupid idea that he and Stiles could go to the dance together. He knew it wasn't a good idea, but he still couldn't keep himself from _hoping_. Lot of good that it did him.

He couldn't be mad at Stiles for refusing, though. He understood his reasoning, and he'd rather die again than let someone hurt Stiles because they found out about the ghost living in his house.

That didn't mean he wasn't brooding, though.

That didn't mean he wasn't sad.

Derek spent years and years alone, with only the empty hallways and rooms of this house for company. And the occasional spider, but since they didn't pay attention to Derek at all, he didn't count them. He didn't recall those first few years as a ghost, only knowing he was there because he didn't want to leave Laura by herself. Someone must have had rebuilt the house during that time, maybe even his sister, transforming it back to what it used to be. Or at least close to it, the changes so little they were insignificant.

Derek was lonely, with no one to talk to or interact with, and his solitude had started taking its toll on him. He didn't like to admit how close he'd been to letting himself go, to give in to the hurt and grief he felt ever since he woke up on the burnt husk of what used to be his family home. Even his relatives who lived in the house before it was abandoned weren't company for him. Derek had been too afraid to show himself and end up scaring people. He didn't want to see the horror and fear in his family's face — or anyone's face, for that matter.

It wasn't until the day Sheriff Stilinski stopped by to see the house that Derek felt a spark of, well, not _life_ , but the spark of _something_ in him again.

Derek could still remember like it was yesterday, hearing the pebbles on the pathway to the house crunching under car wheels as someone drove up to the house. People had been stopping by the house more frequently since it went up again for sale, so Derek was used to having strangers roaming around the house and wrinkling their noses at the state of it. To say he wasn't a fan of it was an understatement. It was, after all, _his_ _family's_ house. People should have shown more respect.

So Derek had pretty low expectations for whoever it was that decided to see the house in the woods was a good idea. Which might have been the reason why he was so taken with Sheriff Stilinski when he opened the house and his eyebrows climbed to his forehead, appreciation written all over his face.

"This place is bigger than I thought it would be," the Sheriff had said. "Nicer, too."

If Derek had made himself visible then, people would have been able to see his jaw going slack in surprise at the comment. Because as much as he disliked people's reactions to the house, he had to say he kind of agreed with them. The place was left without maintenance for too long and it was showing, in the way the door creaked when someone tried to open it, the chipped paint by the windows, the layer of dust settled over pretty the entire place. And as much as Derek wanted to, by being a ghost and all, he couldn't do anything about it.

Someone recognizing the potential of his old house meant something to Derek, and that alone was startling. Derek couldn't bring to mind the last time he felt something other than _bored_ or _numb_ whenever he was there, let alone _appreciative_ of another person's opinion. That's when he knew this time things were different.

And that was when Stiles showed up behind his father, assessing the front hall with the same calm gaze his father had, and said, "Then you had very low expectations."

Derek had to say he was ashamed that his first thought about Stiles was something along the lines of _wow, fuck you_. It was unexpected, like welcoming the Sheriff's remark about the house, but it wasn't one of his brightest moments.

His opinion changed as Derek followed them around the house, though. He was completely engrossed by Stiles, how loud and bright and _beautiful_ he was — even though Derek hadn't admitted to himself he thought of Stiles like that yet. Every little crack and observation Stiles made about the mansion invoked something in Derek, either a smile or a laugh or the urge to smack him upside the head.

Stiles was just so wonderfully _full of life_ , that Derek kind of didn't know what to do with himself. Nothing but trail behind him as he walked around the property, trying to soak up as much of Stiles's energy as he could. As if by staying near him Derek would somehow go back to feeling a little less dead himself.

That was why it took Derek some time to show himself to Stiles. He didn't want to risk being rejected, being feared, not by someone who, for the first time in a really long time, Derek longed to call a friend. The decision to do so was a hard one, but after seeing Stiles messing with his old things, Derek had to do it.

Even if it was to just scare him a little bit and tell him not to touch things that don't belong to him.

He had more fun scaring Stiles that first time than he'd had since he became what he was. There was something about watching him flail and scream and try to defend himself that was endearing to Derek, which was kind of messed up, if he thought about it too long. He just never had the opportunity to do what ghosts are supposed to do: go around scaring people. He never let himself, not until then.

Derek's decision to do was even more rewarding when not only Stiles didn't run away screaming from him, but he actively tried to spend some of his time with Derek, making him a friend. That was something Derek never thought he'd have again after he died, turning his friendship with Stiles something he treasured above most things.

It was after that discovery that Derek's feelings turned to something more, something that went beyond friendship. He didn't just want to be around Stiles because he felt alone. He wanted to be around Stiles because Stiles was smart, fun, caring; Stiles made him laugh, made him comfortable, made him wish to be alive so he could try new things, meet new people, see different things. He could talk to Stiles, in a way he was never really able to talk to anyone; trading secrets and stories, reminiscing about their families and loved ones.

Derek _wanted_ Stiles, with his loud laugh and bright eyes, his witty comments and biting remarks, his bony knees and flailing limbs and mole-dotted skin. His pink lips, soft hair, lean muscles. His weird humor, quick brain, and full heart.

His _liveliness._

His _love_.

That was all.

* * *

Derek didn't see the bright and almost blinding light until he was almost, well, _blinded_ by it.

Not that he thought ghosts _could_ get blinded, but still.

In his defense, he was too busy feeling miserable and like life sucked and that death didn't get much better to notice changes in his surroundings. When he did, he only had time to snap his eyes shut and raise his arms to cover his head before he felt like his eyeballs would pop out of their sockets and melt.

Not that he thought that could really happen to ghosts, but _still_. It most certainly felt like it.

Derek opened his eyes to slits, slowly lowering his arm when he saw the light wasn't as strong anymore. And then he almost fell through the wooden chair under him and down the second floor out of surprise, because in place of the light was _a person_.

Or should he say: _a ghost_.

But a ghost very much unlike him in ghostness, if Derek was going to be honest. There was nothing miserable or scary about the person hovering in front of him. It was quite the opposite, in fact. Derek felt nothing but calm and love and happiness coming from them as he stared. And those sensations and feelings were so new to him that it took him a while to notice just _who_ the person was.

If Derek wasn't dead, he was pretty sure he would have died from shock when his eyes focused on the face in front of him.

Because right there, in jeans, fluffy slippers, and an old BHPD shirt, was, " _Mrs. Stilinski_?"

"Oh, so you know me. That's good. It should make things easier," she said, smiling. "And you can call me Claudia. None of that Mrs. Stilinski crap."

All Derek could do was gape as stared at Stiles's _mom_ , her face only familiar to him from the amount of times he saw her picture on Stiles's nightstand. The upturned nose, the brown eyes, the smile so like Stiles's own that made Derek want to cry a little.

"You're a _ghost_?" Derek blurted out, the lights in the room flickering from his distress. "Does Stiles _know_? Did he see you? _Can_ he see you?"

Derek almost vanished out of the room so he could go in search for Stiles. He knew Stiles would give his left arm if it meant being able to see his mom again, and then here she _was_ , talking to _Derek_.

"Calm down, Derek," Mrs. Stilinski — _Claudia_ — said, raising a hand to stop him. "I'm not what you'd call a ghost. More of a spirit, really. I passed on when I passed away, unlike you did. And I'd appreciate if you'd stay right where you are. Stiles isn't supposed to know about me."

Derek deflated, lips turning down in the corners. "How did you know?"

"You looked like you were about to bolt," Claudia answered, shrugging. "And you were also kind of vibrating a little."

"Oh," Derek blinked. He'd never heard of _that_ happening before, but he supposed it made sense. Weird things happened to him and around him whenever he was experiencing strong emotions. "Then why are you here? If… If you didn't get stuck?"

Derek didn't know what it meant, her being here, if it was only for a few mere minutes or a little while longer. He felt for Stiles, then. He wished for her to stay at least this one night, if only so Stiles could see his mother and the Sheriff could see his wife one more time.

Wasn't that what they said? That in the night of Halloween, the spirits roam free?

"I'm here because I want to thank you," Claudia said, the soft light that seemed to surround her brightening.

"What?"

"You've been a friend to my son," Claudia started, face kind. "You've listened to him and you've been there for him. You've made his life a little better, and for that I'm thankful."

"I— It was—," Derek cleared his throat. "It was no problem. I like him."

Claudia's lips curled up into a smirk, her eyes sparkling as she said, "I know. In fact, I'd even say you _more_ than like my son."

If there were blood flowing from Derek's beating heart and through his veins, he was sure it would have gathered around his face, turning his cheeks pink. As it were, Derek's embarrassment was shown by him ducking his head, his fingers curling and uncurling into his palms.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you, Derek," Claudia said, and the change in subject and the sadness in her tone made Derek raise his head and look up. "You were never meant to stay here for so long."

"I wasn't?" Derek whispered.

"No," she shook her head. "Especially not after Laura passed."

"I don't understand," Derek said, stomach churning. He could feel the room getting colder, responding to his uncontrolled emotions. He was glad that didn't seem to affect Stiles's mom, who continued to shine bright and gaze at him.

"There must _always_ be a balance to things," Claudia explained. "More so when it comes to life and death. When left unbalanced… well, let's just say things tend to get messy."

Derek opened and closed his mouth, not knowing if he wanted to ask just what she meant by _messy_.

"You not moving on was a mistake," Claudia stated, as blunt as she could. Derek flinched, unable to help himself. "We don't know why you stayed when you weren't supposed to, and that had consequences. It messed with the balance."

Derek hugged his stomach, wanting to do nothing more than to curl in on himself. He was afraid she'd say that because of that he couldn't stay here anymore. While he would have accepted that had it happen a year ago, now he wanted to stay. He didn't dare ask her if that was why she was here, because he didn't want to know the answer.

Claudia took a step closer to him, the light surrounding her feeling almost warm to Derek. Her voice was soft when she spoke, "You've suffered, the decades you spent here alone. That was never supposed to happen. You were supposed to be at peace, not trapped in a house by yourself. I'm sorry for that, Derek."

Derek pressed his lips together, giving her a small nod. He didn't know what to say to her, not when he thought this was going to be his last night here and the last thing he wanted was to _go_.

So imagine his surprise when he felt warm fingers actually _touch_ his cheek instead of going through them, when he felt warmth and light flow through him, making his entire body shudder, when he heard Claudia's voice in his ear.

"And that's why I'm here, to rectify the wrong that was done to you," she said, winking when Derek stared at her with wide eyes. "Tonight, Derek Hale, I am making your biggest wish come true."


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n** : here's the final chapter! thanks to everyone who favorited the fic and left reviews! :D

* * *

"Well, here we go."

Stiles looked down at his classmates crowding his living room, all decked in the most varied Halloween costumes. The party was in full swing, but Stiles still had to make an appearance.

"I thought you'd be down there already."

Stiles glanced over his shoulder at him dad, shrugging. "I had to mentally prepare myself first. It's not every day almost my entire school is at my house."

His dad huffed. "You brought this on yourself, kid. Better make the best of it. And soon, too. You don't want to miss the party because you're up here."

"Yeah," Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I should head down."

"And I'm going back to my room," his dad said, and then pointed at the paperback he was holding. "I have mysteries to solve."

Stiles rolled his eyes, wishing his dad good luck. He wiped his palms on his tight blue jeans and checked himself in one of the hallway mirrors. He smoothed down his white shirt and tugged at the collars of Derek's leather jacket, letting himself hope for a moment that Derek could be there with him. His hair looked as good as it was going to get, slicked back and gelled up.

He had to say, he looked good. Nothing like Danny Zuko, but still good.

People seemed to agree as he made his way down the stairs, if judging by the smiles and nods he got.

He couldn't help but smile when he caught sight of his friends, shaking his head when Scott saw him and waved.

"This isn't what I expected," Stiles said, raising an eyebrow at Scott's costume.

"I'll have you know Black Widow is a _badass_ ," Scott said, hands on his hips.

"You do look good with that wig," Allison pointed out, tugging at a red strand of Scott's wig. She was smiling, dimples showing.

"You look better than I do, though," Scott replied, snaking an arm around Allison's waist. "And you can actually _shoot_ the arrows of your Hawkeye costume."

Stiles groaned, sending her a pleading look. "Please don't shoot any arrows in my house."

"I'll try my best," Allison nodded.

"Stilinski, did anyone tell you your ass looks _amazing_ in those jeans?"

Stiles cheeks flushed as he swung around, making a show of wiggling his hips. "Why, thank you. You don't look bad yourself."

"I better not. This thing was expensive as fuck," Erica said, gesturing at her black Catwoman suit.

"You look great as always," Boyd told her, bending down to place a kiss her on temple.

"Dude." Stiles eyes widened, his hand moving of its own accord and poking Boyd in the chest. "Are those your real muscles or part of your Batman costume?"

Boyd gave him an unimpressed look.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Erica leered, red lips curling at the corners.

"They're real," Isaac piped up. He was wearing pale blue scrubs and a stethoscope around his neck, and his lips quirked up in a smirk when Erica glared at him.

"And let's thank the universe for that," Danny said with appreciation, eyes raking over Boyd's body.

"No checking out my boyfriend," Erica snapped. "You have can have your pick of the other guys here."

"And I will," Danny said, grinning. "I think Jack Sparrow over there is checking me out."

Which was kind of funny, Stiles thought, considering Danny was only dressed in red and white boardshorts and flip flops.

"You go get him, dude," Scott said, clapping Danny on the shoulder.

"Oh, there you are." Lydia appeared beside him, Jackson trailing behind holding two plastic cups. She and Jackson were dressed as a couple straight from the 20s, Lydia's gold flapper dress shining under the lights. "I moved some things around in your freezer to fit the ice bags we'll need for tonight."

Stiles blinked. "No problem."

"You mean, I moved them," Jackson mumbled, only to snap his mouth shut when Lydia glared at him.

"So everything's going okay?" Stiles asked her, biting down on his bottom lip.

"Everything going perfect," Lydia sniffed. "But it would be even better if we went back to dancing."

"Well," Stiles smiled. "Can't argue with that."

* * *

Stiles could argue with that, actually.

Because as soon as a slow song started, he was left in the middle of the dance floor by himself, while he watched the rest of his friends pair off. Even Isaac found himself leading a girl dressed as Lara Croft in small circles as they danced.

Stiles sighed and turned around to go hang out near the food table. He figured he could stuff his face full of Lydia's spider cupcakes until the song ended. And maybe while he was at it, he could stop thinking about how he was at the dance _alone_ , and the one person he wished was there with him couldn't because they were _dead_.

It had been a few days, but Stiles could still feel the phantom of Derek's lips against his own, no pun intended. He had been at the edge of sleep, almost drifting off when there was the press of something cool against his lips.

He would give anything to be able to do that again, but this time for _real_. He wanted to be able to kiss Derek whenever he wanted, to have Derek in flesh and blood and thick eyebrows and thin lips in front of him.

But that wasn't how life worked. Because if it was, he'd be with Derek right now, in the middle of the dance floor, slow dancing and maybe stealing a few kisses. Instead, he was making his way past couples and to the food, feeling sorry for himself. He figured he could at least go upstairs to his room and lock himself in until everyone left.

Not that he would, since he didn't want to face Lydia's wrath about him being a bad host, but still. It was nice to have the option.

That was when he noticed that the couples he was walking past weren't really slow dancing anymore. They were actually stopping, their heads turning to look up in the direction of the stairs. Stiles frowned in confusion and turned, wondering if his dad decided to leave the security of his room and venture out to the party.

He wasn't expecting to feel like he got hit in the head with a bat when his eyes focused on what caught everyone's attention. Or should he say: _who_ caught everyone's attention.

Because walking down the stairs, dressed very much like Stiles in tight jeans and a tight black shirt, was _Derek_.

Only he wasn't _transparent_ anymore.

He was in full _color_ , all pale skin and black hair and red cheeks. Stiles knew Derek was good-looking when he was a ghost, but seeing him _alive_ was different. It was _better_. It absolutely took his breath away.

All Stiles could do was watch, wide-eyed, as Derek sauntered to him. Derek eyes were blazing and a smirk was on his lips. Stiles, for his turn, could feel his heart trying to beat out of his chest.

This couldn't be real, could it?

"Hi," Derek said as he stopped in front of Stiles, offering him his hand, palm up. "Would you like to dance?"

Derek's voice sounded the same as it did when he was a ghost, but also _different_. He sounded _alive_ , like he was really there instead of projecting.

Stiles didn't hesitate to take Derek's hand in his, their palms sliding together as he let Derek pull him up and back to the middle of the dancefloor.

His breath hitched at feeling Derek's _warm_ and _dry_ and _real_ hand against his. Because that meant that Derek was _there_ , with his fingers curled around Stiles's, and he was _living_.

"Okay?" Derek asked once they stopped facing each other, Derek's arms wrapping themselves around Stiles's waist.

"Are you really…?" Stiles whispered, letting himself be led as they danced.

This close Stiles could see straight into Derek's eyes. He always wondered what color they were, never being able to see when Derek was a ghost. Now he was faced with green and blue and specks of gold, Derek's eyes so bright and beautiful Stiles didn't know what to do with himself.

"I am really," Derek nodded, his expression softening.

"Oh," Stiles breathed out, and then all he could do was cling to Derek, his arms tight around Derek's shoulders.

He felt Derek's laugh against his chest, Derek's breath ghosting over his neck. He let himself get lost in feeling Derek's warm body against his, not even caring if people were still staring at them or not.

He couldn't believe this was _real_ and Derek was really _there_.

Stiles figured it must have been some sort of Halloween magic that made this possible. You know, the veil between here and there allowing the spirits of those who have died to return.

"I told you I was a good dancer," Derek murmured, and Stiles could hear the smile in his tone.

"You did," Stiles agreed, letting out a small laugh. "You really did."

"Stiles?" Derek asked, one of his hands pressing more firmly against Stiles's back.

Stiles lifted his head up a little, his cheek pressed against Derek's. "Derek?"

"Can I keep you?"

Stiles swallowed, heart tugging in his chest as he whispered, "Yes."

He didn't resist when Derek pulled away from him a little.

Nor when Derek leaned in a bit closer.

And he _definitely_ didn't resist when Derek closed the distance between them and placed a slow and sweet kiss on his lips.

* * *

Stiles was pretty sure he was in heaven.

It was as if Stiles could feel nothing but Derek's mouth on his and Derek's tongue against his, as if they weren't standing in the middle of his living room and surrounded by Stiles's classmates. It was the only explanation that made sense as he and _Derek_ kept kissing, slow and deep and like they had all the time in world.

Which, if Stiles's theory about this being a Halloween thing was accurate, wasn't true.

Stiles kept his eyes closed after Derek finished the kiss, brushing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Stiles?"

Stiles shook his head, his nose bumping against Derek's.

"C'mon, look at me."

"I can't," Stiles said, dropping his forehead to rest on Derek's shoulder. Because Derek would probably go back to being a ghost either as soon as it hit midnight, which was going to happen in about a minute, or tomorrow night.

Stiles wasn't ready to let go of him this soon.

He turned his face so he could bury his nose against the side of Derek's neck and breathe him in. Derek smelled _good_ , of sweat and leather and the forest that surrounded the house.

"Stiles," Derek said again, voice low.

"I don't want you to leave," Stiles admitted. "I want you to stay here. With me."

He felt Derek's hand at the back up his neck, giving it a squeeze. "Then kiss me again."

Stiles did, trying to pour everything he was feeling into the kiss. How much he liked Derek, how much he didn't want Derek to leave, how much he wanted them to stay there, together and _alive_.

And then Stiles heard the living room clock strike twelve, the sound so loud it resonated over the music. He tried to pull back, away from Derek, so he could run the fuck away and burst into tears _alone_ because Derek would be dead again.

Only that was not what happened.

The clock stopped chiming, and Stiles could still feel Derek's arms around him, Derek's breath against his lips, the tips of their noses touching.

"What the fuck?" Stiles asked, baffled.

Derek huffed, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "I'm not leaving."

"What the _fuck_?" Stiles repeated, heart tugging in his chest. "Is this some kind of _Disney_ bullshit? A True Love's Kiss? I kiss you and you get to stay forever?"

"Stiles—," Derek tried to interrupt.

"We need to make sure," Stiles babbled. "C'mon, Derek. Kiss me again."

Stiles brought his hands to cup Derek's cheeks, bringing their lips together. This time, their kiss was kind of awkward, mostly due to the fact that Derek was smiling at him.

"Stop smiling and _kiss me_ ," Stiles snapped. "We need to keep you here."

Stiles went for another kiss, only to end up catching Derek's chin instead of his mouth when Derek tried to turn his head away from him.

" _Derek_!"

"I'm trying to explain it to you," Derek said. "We can make out later."

"You don't need to explain, I get it," Stiles told him, annoyed. "Now suck face with me."

"I don't need to," Derek said, causing Stiles to stop an inch from his lips again.

"What do you mean, you don't need to?" Stiles asked, eyes narrowing.

"That's not how this is happening," Derek sighed, fingers caressing the back of Stiles's neck. "There's no True Love's Kiss."

Stiles blinked, feeling his cheeks heat. "No?"

"No," Derek shook his head, amused. "Although it's good to know you've elected yourself as my One True Love."

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, at a loss for words.

The only reason he didn't feel more embarrassed than he already was because Derek pecked him on the lips and added, "Not that I mind. I have to say I agree."

"Yes?" Stiles asked, melting against Derek.

"Yes."

Stiles swallowed, throat clicking. "That's good. But if that's not how…," Stiles said, waving a hand around. "Then how are you here?"

"A mistake was made," Derek said, face far away. "I wasn't supposed to get stuck here like I did, so they fixed it."

"They fixed it," Stiles said flatly. His mind was already thinking up all kinds of things: like a spirit police who made sure justice was served or a spirit council who got to decide who stayed and who passed on.

"Well, she fixed it," Derek corrected, getting this awed look on his face.

"She who?" Stiles asked, suspicious.

He was not expecting the nervous look on Derek's face at that, but that didn't lessen his curiosity.

So he didn't protest when Derek grabbed his hand, their fingers interlacing, and said, "Let's go."

* * *

Derek lead them up the stairs, oblivious to the considering looks they were getting from Stiles's classmates. Stiles knew rumors would be flying around come Monday at school, not that he could bring himself to think up a plausible explanation about who Derek was and how they met.

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked, feeling a bit nervous at the thought of meeting _another_ ghost. One powerful enough to give Derek life, at that.

"She should be—," Derek started, only to cut himself off as they rounded the corner in the direction of Stiles's room.

This because, right in front of Stiles's door, they saw a light, one so bright that Stiles closed his eyes and hid his face against Derek's shoulder.

"I see you found him."

And that—

That _voice_.

Stiles _knew_ it and he thought he'd never get to hear it again.

"Mom?" Stiles whispered, his hold on Derek's hand tightening to the point where his knuckles turned white.

"Hey, kiddo," Claudia grins. "You got taller."

Stiles choked, eyes filling with tears. He leaned his weight against Derek's side, barely aware of Derek's arm slipping around his waist.

"Stiles, what is all that stomping around? I thought you said everyone was going to be downs— _Claudia_?"

Stiles turned to see his dad at the door to his room, his face pale and eyes dazed as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Stiles had to say he was right there with his dad on that one, although he knew ghosts were a real thing from knowing Derek.

"Hi there, Sheriff," Claudia said, grin transforming into a soft and private smile.

"What— You— _How_?" Stiles's dad stuttered, distraught.

Yeah, Stiles wanted to know that too.

Claudia shrugged. "It's Halloween night and you live in a creepy house in the middle of the woods. I thought I'd come visit when I knew I could, even if I don't have much time."

Stiles choked on a laugh while his dad stared at his mom in disbelief.

"She sounds just like you," Derek murmured, placing a kiss on Stiles's temple.

"I'm the one who sounds like her," Stiles corrected him.

"Time?" Stiles's dad asked, shaking his head. "You— _Claudia_." He scrubbed a hand over his face, glancing back at Stiles. "Am I hallucinating?"

"I don't think so, dad," Stiles shook his head.

"You're not," Claudia said, tone firm. "I'm really here, if only just for tonight and for only the next ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Stiles and his dad yelled, taken aback.

"I was supposed to leave at midnight," Claudia said, her smile downcast. "I'm already past my limit, which means I should really get to saying what I want to say."

"But mom—," Stiles tried, because if Derek came back to life for him than his mom surely could do it too.

Claudia shook her head, as if she knew what Stiles was thinking. "No, honey. I'm sorry."

Stiles closed his eyes, tears falling down his face.

"I know things weren't easy after I left," Claudia said, face solemn. "And I know how much you suffered and missed me."

"We still miss you. Every day," Stiles's dad tried to say.

"I do too," Claudia told him, and Stiles thought he could see tears in her eyes as well. "I'm proud of you too, of everything you've done and achieved this far. I might not be here with you, but I want you to know that I'll always be watching. And I want you to know how sad I was and still am to let you both go."

She hovered close to Stiles's dad, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

Stiles had to hide his face against Derek's shoulder again, not being strong enough to see the expressions playing over his dad's face. They deserved this moment after everything, and Stiles was glad to give it to them.

He was also thankful for Derek being there with him, a strong and silent presence by his side, holding him up.

"She gave me you," Stiles said, voice hoarse.

"And she gave me you," Derek answered, hugging Stiles's tight.

"And I'm glad I did."

They looked up to see Claudia in front of them, eyes kind.

"I love you, mom," Stiles blurted out. There was a lot he wanted to say to her, but at the end of it all this was the most important thing.

"I love you too, Stiles. Very much," Claudia told him, and then turned to Derek. "Help take care of him, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Derek nodded.

Claudia sighed. "So polite."

"Thank you for bringing him back for me," Stiles said.

"Yes, I'd like to know what _that_ is about," Stiles's dad said, making both boys jump and Claudia laugh.

"I'm sure they'll explain it all to you once I'm gone," Claudia said, grinning at Stiles's red cheeks and Derek's horrified expression. "There's only one thing I have left to do, though."

"Mom?" Stiles blinked, following behind Claudia as she made for the stairs. "What are you doing?"

Claudia glanced at him over her shoulder with a wicked smile before pressing a finger to her lips, shushing him.

And Stiles's dad only had to time to say, "Oh Claudia, _no_ ," before she vanished right before their eyes.

And that was when the screaming started.

* * *

"So, this wasn't bad for my first Halloween dance," Stiles said, looking around his empty living room with ripped decorations and plastic cups littered all over the floor. "Don't you think so?"

"My favorite part was when your mom showed up in the middle of the dance floor, completely see-through, and hovering above a bunch of your classmates," Derek said, sounding equal parts impressed and scared. "It only got better when she started yelling about how she was going to rip all their hearts out."

Stiles bit down on his lip to fight a smile. He had to say he had never seen a place empty so fast, with his classmates screaming and running like their costumes were on fire. Some people even left their bags and coats at the house, not wanting to stop in case what Stiles's mom said was true.

And he just knew that Monday, everyone was going to be whispering about how his house really _was_ haunted and asking him questions about what it was like to live with a ghost.

Not that he was going to answer it, Stiles thought as he looked over at Derek. Mostly because the answer was: it was _fucking great_. Especially when said ghost got his life back and had a vested interest in being his boyfriend.

Stiles's dad just huffed out a laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face. "That's Claudia for you. I'm just glad she decided not to turn the food into worms or something."

"I don't think that would have been possible," Derek frowned, considering.

"My mom is awesome," Stiles preened.

"Yes, she is. And don't think I forgot what you said about her bringingthis one _back_ ," his dad said, pointing at Derek. "As soon as we're done cleaning, I demand an explanation."

" _Dad_ ," Stiles whined.

"It's alright, Stiles," Derek said, sliding a hand up and down Stiles's back. "It's going to be a lot easier to tell him what happened now that he knows ghosts are real."

"Wait," Stiles's dad said, obviously putting the pieces together. "You're a _ghost_?"

"Was," Derek said promptly.

"Yeah, dad. I think it'd be kind of hard to date him if he wasn't real."

His dad narrowed his eyes. "Knowing you, that wouldn't have stopped you."

"Yeah," Stiles said, ducking his head and tangling Derek's hand with his own. "I also don't think it would have."

"You're keeping me," Derek said, low enough Stiles's dad didn't hear.

"And you're keeping me," Stiles replied, making a soft sound in the back of his throat when Derek leaned in to kiss him.

You know, until his dad threw a paper skeleton at their heads.


End file.
